


Can We?

by unrealkinkster (criticalkink)



Category: Geek & Sundry RPF, The Wednesday Club RPF
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, Bisexual Male Character, Blow Jobs, Canon Bisexual Character, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, M/M, Polyamorous Character, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Relationship Negotiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2019-10-13 17:48:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17492426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/criticalkink/pseuds/unrealkinkster
Summary: For the kmeme prompt: They are so very handsy, exchange I love yous and are completely adorable. First time involving kink/poly negotiation, bondage and mild d/S. don't care who tops. No bashing of Matt's wife.





	Can We?

**Author's Note:**

> First time, negotiation of permissible activities, no (intentional) Brittany-bashing. Started writing and was halfway through before realizing the bondage and D/s didn't fit the situation. Might come across as kind of melancholy.
> 
> Originally posted to the CR kmeme [here](https://criticalkink.dreamwidth.org/2589.html?thread=349725#cmt349725).
> 
> Do not show the real people the real people fiction!

Calling a friend out on their sexual preferences is not something Taliesin would usually do, but he’s seen the way that Matt looks at him even when he’s doing something as innocuous as being a comic stand while Amy turns the pages.   
  
He’s also not a fan of butting into established relationships without explicit invitation, but one night Matt mentions Brittany twenty-three times over the course of one episode while also touching Taliesin’s arm and hand and hair almost as often, and Taliesin just quietly loses it.   
  
Matt’s fixing his hair in the dressing room after the show because Amy’s been petting them both all night. Taliesin comes up behind him, slips his arms around Matt’s waist, and goes up on his toes to rest his chin on Matt’s shoulder.   
  
“Oh, hey.” Matt seems unfazed that he’s got a cuddly goth attached to him. “You know there’s enough room beside me if you need the mirror.”   
  
“It’s a good sized dressing room,” Taliesin agrees. “Not like the little closet you’ve crammed yourself into.”   
  
“What?” Matt puts his comb down. His tone and stiffened posture say  _what is this shit_ ; his eyes, though, are resigned with truth.   
  
“Don’t insult my intelligence by denying it.” Taliesin softens his tone. “I’m not asking you to come out to the world. I just want you to know that it’s okay.”   
  
Matt lowers his head, avoiding Taliesin’s gaze in the mirror. He puts his hands over Taliesin’s, but rather than trying to detach him, he just holds on.   
  
“I don’t even know if it’s true,” he says. “I feel like I should at least have tried, I don’t know.” He laughs; it sounds broken. “I missed the experimental college phase. It’s too late.”   
  
“It’s never too late,” Taliesin says, stepping into this familiar, well-worn role like a comfortable old pair of broken-in Docs. He very carefully kisses the side of Matt’s jaw, watching Matt’s eyes close, and then waits.   
  
Matt’s sigh is slow, a little shaky, and he turns his head toward Taliesin. Taliesin kisses the corner of Matt’s mouth, lips brushing lightly at that spot that, he has found, quite often sparks up a certain tingle. It’s been a while since he kissed anyone with this quantity of facial hair; even Matt Mercer after ten days out on the playa doesn’t come close to this.   
  
He imagines it’ll come back to him, though.   
  
Matt releases his hands and turns in his arms, draping his own arms around Taliesin’s shoulders. Taliesin drops back down from his toes, now that he doesn’t need to crane over Matt’s shoulder, and looks at him calmly.   
  
“Go on then,” Matt says.   
  
“I need specifics. Also explicit consent.”   
  
“I...” Matt’s Adam’s apple bobs. “Can I—can we kiss? Please?”   
  
“Certainly,” Taliesin says.   
  
Better than what Matt says is the fact that he initiates the kiss. He is hesitant, certainly, and Taliesin moves his hands so one is on Matt’s lower back and the other is between his shoulderblades: safe but promising locations. Matt’s moustache in particular is scratchy. Not as much as Travis’s, though. Softer. Not downright prickly the way Sam gets, either. It seems some good oil or somesuch might be at play here.   
  
Taliesin doesn’t disrespect the moment by overthinking it any further. He returns the kiss, parting his lips enough to let Matt know it’s okay to go further. Matt licks his lower lip tentatively, then licks along Taliesin’s tongue, and sighs into Taliesin’s mouth, arms tightening around his shoulders.   
  
Taliesin realizes he’s got Matt backed up against the vanity bench and moves to give him a little space. Matt drops one hand to his lower back, holding him in place. That’s fine; he’s still got room to let go if their physical proximity becomes overwhelming.   
  
Matt makes a little noise into Taliesin’s mouth and Taliesin presses just a little closer, teasing his tongue over Matt’s lower lip. Matt whines and opens his mouth to Taliesin’s tongue, curling his own against it by way of invitation.   
  
It’s very encouraging. Taliesin’s not sure  _what_  Matt’s encouraging exactly, but he shifts position to nudge one of his thighs between Matt’s. Matt outright gasps against his lips and his fingers curl against Taliesin’s lower back. His hips twitch toward Taliesin and Taliesin can’t resist pressing against him a little harder.   
  
“Oh. Oh God.” Matt wets his lips, which means he licks Taliesin’s lips at the same time. “I—”   
  
Taliesin’s waiting for Matt to ask for something more, but instead he’s just pulled into another kiss. The hand draped over his shoulder has crept up to the nape of his neck, ruffling his hair. Matt does like touching his head in particular whether they’re on or off camera. Taliesin tilts his head and Matt traces the edge of his ear, and Taliesin hums softly, pleased.   
  
He might as well test Matt’s intent a little more. If he’s to be Matt’s experiment, it’s no fun without a few variables. He sucks lightly on the tip of Matt’s tongue.   
  
Matt’s whole body shudders and both hands claw at Taliesin. Taliesin sucks a little harder, licks the soft inside of Matt’s cheek, and then pulls back enough to study Matt’s face.   
  
His eyes are closed, mouth a little slack, lips pink and wet. His cheeks are crimson, and he looks very much as though if he weren’t pinned to the bench he’d fall on his ass.   
  
“That was an offer,” Taliesin says, “just so you’re aware.”   
  
Matt opens his eyes. His pupils have dilated, turned his irises to thin rings. “Are you serious?”   
  
Taliesin, eyes fixed on Matt’s face, inches his hand around from Matt’s lower back. First to his stomach, then to his waistband, then to his thigh. “I can feel you,” he says calmly. “If you’d rather take care of yourself that’s up to you, but I’d advise against going back out there in this condition.” He squeezes Matt’s erection through the fabric of his pants and then has to press close again as Matt’s knees buckle.   
  
“Yes,” Matt says, and “Please,” which from him is less plea and more politeness.   
  
“Up,” Taliesin says. Matt boosts himself onto the bench; his toes still touch the floor. Taliesin scoots a stool over to sit between Matt’s spread legs.   
  
“If you change your mind, just say so,” Taliesin says.   
  
“I will.” Matt swallows. “Taliesin...”   
  
“Yes?”   
  
“Thank you.”   
  
Taliesin just smiles up at him. It’s not a particularly safe smile. “Don’t thank me yet,” he says.   
  
Matt’s cock is a reasonably sized outline under the front of his pants. Taliesin rubs his palm over it and then makes short work of Matt’s buckle, button, and zipper.   
  
“Very nice,” he murmurs as he draws Matt’s cock out of his boxers.   
  
Matt, unsurprisingly, says nothing. His hands are fisted on his thighs.   
  
Taliesin doesn’t have anything particularly fancy in mind—no teasing, no fingering, just a straightforward blowjob. It’s a little risky to assume Matt’s STI-free, but he and Brittany have always seemed 100% monogamous; Taliesin’s not worried that he’s one of a collection. He’s pretty sure that he’s an outlier, as usual.   
  
But even so his heartbeat speeds up as he lowers his head to caress the tip of Matt’s cock with his tongue. Regardless of how...  _cheapening_  this experience can sometimes be, this sensation of being a test subject, it doesn’t lessen the pleasure of the activities.   
  
For example, the long moan that comes from deep down in Matt’s lungs when Taliesin sucks him in.   
  
The sensation of Matt’s cock sliding and twitching against his tongue.   
  
The feeling of Matt’s blunt fingertips as they uncurl from his tight fists and dig into Taliesin’s shoulders.   
  
Matt keeps on with the long moans, every breath, regardless of what Taliesin’s doing to him. Tongue flicks, deep sucks, long licks; all of these draw the same long deep groans. Matt’s thighs are shaking under Taliesin’s palms. This isn’t going to last long at all, as far as Taliesin can sense.   
  
“Oh—oh my God.”   
  
Matt touches his hair again, stroking it, paying particular attention to the short sides. Either it’s just a being tactile during sex thing, or he’s actively reminding himself that the mouth on his cock isn’t his wife’s.   
  
Taliesin’s right; it  _is_  quick.   
  
Matt’s hips start jerking after a minute or so, and Taliesin takes him deep, acknowledging Matt’s polite shoulder tap of warning with an agreeable hum.   
  
When Matt comes it’s with another long low moan, as though his breath is all leaving his body with his climax. Taliesin swallows through it, drawing back with a long slow suck to collect the last drops, and dabs his lips with a tissue. He can see himself in the mirror behind Matt: lips gone rosy and plump with the effort, eyes a little dark, cheeks pink.   
  
He winks at himself, and then looks up at Matt.   
  
Matt’s head is lowered, eyes closed. He’s breathing quickly, mouth hanging open just a little, and his hands are now curled around the edge of the bench, holding himself up. For a little kissing and one blowjob, he looks pretty wrecked. But then, when something like this has been a long time coming, playing on someone’s mind for perhaps months...   
  
“Was it as good as you’d hoped?” Taliesin asks, genuinely curious.   
  
Matt blinks, dazed. “Oh, Taliesin...” His voice is soft, wondering. “Better.”   
  
“Excellent.”   
  
“Do you want me to...”   
  
“No.” Taliesin sees the stricken look on Matt’s face and stands up to kiss his forehead. “No,” he repeats, voice gentler. “That’s very kind of you, but there’s no need.”   
  
Matt rubs his eyes with one hand, and then sets about fixing up his pants. “In that case, would  _now_  be a reasonable time to say ‘thank you’?”   
  
“Now I’ve actually done something worth thanking me for, yes.”   
  
Matt slips off the bench, back to his feet, still looking wobbly. Taliesin’s reminded of a baby giraffe figuring out walking. “Everything you do is worth gratitude,” he says, pulling Taliesin in for one more kiss, and when he doesn’t recoil from the taste of his own seed on Taliesin’s tongue Taliesin wonders if maybe he wasn’t a little too quick to decline any reciprocal activities.   
  
He doesn’t really have a way to respond to Matt’s words, so he just returns the kiss, hands Matt his comb, and opens the dressing room door for him. Matt slips out of the room, down the hallway, and presumably back to the real world.   
  
A polka-dotted sock hits Taliesin in the chest.   
  
“You can’t  _do_  that at work.” Amy’s glaring at him, which would be terrifying if it weren’t for the fact that she is tiny and adorable and about as threatening as a muffin. She whacks him again with the sock, last seen on the door handle. “Other people need to use the dressing room too, you know.”   
  
Taliesin confiscates the sock. “Excuse me for being too old for kneeling in toilet stalls.”   
  
Amy pushes past him. “I need my  _deodorant_ , it’s too damn hot and  _sweaty_  under those lights, although I guess it’s the same in  _here_.”   
  
Taliesin balances on one foot to put his sock back on. “Not really. We didn’t do that much.”   
  
Amy pauses, one hand shoved under her t-shirt clutching her deodorant. “No? Aw, babe. Put the sock back, we can fix that.” She bounces up onto the bench, right where Matt was not two minutes ago, her skirt riding cheerfully up her thighs. She makes no effort to tug it back down. “Come on, c’mere.”   
  
Taliesin puts the sock back on the outer door handle and closes the door, happy to leave the real world out there just a little longer.


End file.
